Written by Debbie Wilkins Baisden Stop being a butthole wife. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man.
There is no laundry fairy. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day my husband left earth for heaven, all of my marriage problems vanished. How often I screwed that up with bickering and manipulating.
I needed to instruct him, question him, and remind him of his shortcomings. By pointing out each fault, I was poisoning the relationship. Oh, it was still a good marriage and we deeply loved each other, but it was not what it could have been. And now it was too late. Days after his funeral, I stared at our dirty clothes basket that sat atop our dryer, knowing his clothes were inside. I sighed so deeply. Before me was the last load of laundry I would ever wash for that sweet man. There would be no more dirty socks to pick up around the house.
A week before I would have rolled my eyes at that basket. But now, it held priceless treasures. I waited weeks to wash those clothes. My heart ached for dirty socks to once more be a part of my days. Like Jesus, we have the opportunity to demonstrate love by serving those we live with. And the last time I checked, not a single person is perfect.
How many times had my husband kept quiet, listened, and endured? He shared no list of ways that I needed refinement. He simply loved me. Those clothes were painfully cleaned and boxed away or donated. And God, the Lover of my soul, in His infinite mercy, later gave me a special gift.
He has allowed me to love again, to wear a second wedding dress, and to be a better wife. I married a wonderful man. I am still a butthole wife, but I am working on edifying the man who provides for my sons and me.
I now strive to hug more and nag less. My goal is to make him feel respected, important, valued. I want to live love. Recently, I walked into the master bedroom and I stopped, nearly bursting into tears. I saw a pile of dirty clothes that my new husband had abandoned on the floor. As I stared at the pile, I smiled. I knew he had hurried to change out of work clothes into comfy clothes so he could spend time with his new family. He had chosen what is more important.
I happily scooped the treasures into my arms and carried them to the washing machine. I get to do this! I get to serve! I get to live with a wonderful man who ditches laundry for people.